


Stagelight

by yeaka



Series: A Honeycomb Tree [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Cages, Dystopia, Exhibitionism, Half-Mirrorverse, M/M, Master & Servant, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, PWP, Pole Dancing, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finds an interesting server at an Earth bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ~

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BotanyCameos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotanyCameos/gifts).



> A/N: This is set in an AU where the setting is similar to the mirror universe in some regards, but the characters are more similar to the regular ones. **Blanket warning** for the Terran Empire being a totalitarian dystopia with all its trickle-down issues, which tinges the servitude with hints of slavery. While this is written as pure smut, please be aware of the problematic fantasy elements and your own comfort levels.
> 
> This is a gift for BotanyCameos. Inspiration from [White Smoke and Broken Mirrors](http://archiveofourown.org/works/947516) by Yersifanel. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The first thing Jim does when he gets his shore leave scheduled is call in a reservation for Io. He’s made it to almost every club in San Francisco, but somehow, the hottest club the Empire’s ever had manages to open up during a two year mission. Always one to keep up with the nightlife, Jim’s heard no end to the stories. It’s one of the first times he’s actually excited to leave the ship when they dock, and he drags Bones off with him at first chance. 

Bones grumbles for most of the way, of course. He’s not a big fan of bars owned directly by Starfleet Admirals, but when Jim flashes the VIP card sent to him by Marcus, Bones shuts up. Not only is it the illustrious Jim Kirk’s duty to visit the club, but he’s given the ‘Admiral Marcus discount’ to certain goods, and he’s encourage to sample—and brag about—Admiral Marcus’ specific conquests. 

Outside the club is just as flashy as any Jim’s ever seen, with windows shaped like Empire warships and a flashing, iridescent sign overtop the double doors. The two Vulcan guards don’t bother to scan Jim and Bones on their way in; _everyone_ knows him. 

And everyone knows this bar, and Jim instantly knows why. 

The counter in the front is manned by several servers, all done up in the same ‘uniform.’ The floors, walls, ceilings, everything is black and painted like the galaxy, with flickering neon lights and a dance floor over in the corner. The back is entirely lined in a stage, tables all around it. Aliens and humans of all sorts are crammed into the large space, and the air is thick and musky. The main server standing in front is a female Andorian, but Jim bypasses her—he’s a man who knows what he wants. He wants the one the left, and he tells that one, “Table for two.”

The man grunts in response and turns to guide them, but Jim reaches out to grab the broad shoulders, spinning him back. The server pauses while Jim reads the silver engraving on his black collar—John. 

Jim repeats as they’re lead to their table, “Your name’s John?”

“My servant name is John,” their server answers carefully, betraying that he’s privately owned, and Jim’s served with Spock too long to miss the subtlety in that simple, status quo statement. 

“And your real name is?” He offers an encouraging smile. Even with personal servants, Jim never has to settle for taking a man he can’t turn on. Unlike a few select admirals he knows, he likes to think the objects of his lust sentient.

The man’s lips tighten, but he drawls smoothly, “Khan.” His voice is deep and lilting—the sort of thing to get Jim going even before the lights come down. Not that there’s much up in the first place. Khan passes them the two menus he’s been holding, and that reveals the rest of his... uniform. 

The uniforms in Io are definitely eye-catching. Of all the servers in the club, none of them wear it better than this Khan. Jim takes a good moment to eye his server up and down before he even bothers with the menu. 

The bottom of the uniform consists of velvet-looking black heels, which only serve to elongate and show off Khan’s strong legs—something the leather pants are more than achieving. Like the top of the shoes, the outer thighs of the pants are cut open, laced up with black crisscrosses. Those pants couldn’t be any tighter if they were spray-painted on, and they show off _every_ line and muscle Khan has to offer, cupping his ass nicely and outlining his cock. The waistband is cut so low that the jut of Khan’s hipbones are entirely visible, and there’s a fair amount of dark pubic hair peaking out; even the top of his cock is on display, though it’s clearly encased in a metal cock-cage. The rest of him is bare except for the accessories. His chiseled, smooth chest is exposed, though there’s a thin black ribbon tied around his middle, knotted into a bow at the back. From the way other servers around the club are being treated, these serve as makeshift leashes. Of course, there’s the thick collar, not unlike what a dog would wear. Cuffs that can clearly be locked together also encircle Khan’s wrists. The final touches are the small, metallic clamps around his nipples, fixed together with a tiny linked chain hanging between them. It glitters in the light whenever Khan shifts, and overall, the outfit gives Jim the difficult conundrum of which reigns to pull first. 

As Jim still hasn’t bothered to turn his hungry gaze to his menu, Khan drawls, “Would you like a drink to start, Sir?” 

Jim would be quite content to just keep staring at this tall glass of eye-candy for as long as he could, but he can’t resist purring, “I’d like _you_ , to start.”

Khan doesn’t look particularly impressed. He turns his gaze to Bones, and a few strands of dark hair tumble over his right eye. Jim doesn’t mind, as this gives him the perfect chance to lean over and examine Khan’s ass, only highlighted by the pants. The top of Khan’s crack and cheeks is easily viewable, and Jim smirks at the scrumptious sight. He hasn’t seen an ass like that in a long time. He imagines Khan’s hole as particularly tight; the cheeks look taut and firm, as though Khan’s done an ample amount of squats. 

Beside him, Bones grumbles, “I would hardly call this a menu—where’s the damn food? It’s all sex and alcohol, but I can’t find the damn mint julips...” Jim’s barely listening.

“That would be because we don’t serve mint julips,” Khan replies silkily. He doesn’t seem effected by the death glare he receives in return. 

“How’d a pretty thing like you end up in the public servant sect?” Jim asks suddenly, unable to help himself. He’s not even interested in the show he was promised; he would’ve come to this club just for this one thing alone. Never mind that their table’s right next to the stage. The challengingly look in Khan’s eyes indicates that his low ranking came on less-than-smoothly—in the Empire, rank is _everything_ , and the truly powerful men only serve in the pursuit of more power. Khan, by sheer force of muscle and gaze, looks like he could’ve ridden much higher. 

There’s a momentary pause, wherein Jim doesn’t back down, and Khan waits him out. Khan almost seems to be considering Jim. When he opens his mouth, Jim expects to be in for a fascinating tale. 

Instead, the ceiling lights go out, leaving just the mid-level, neon glow around eye-height and the floor lighting on the stage. Bones turns around in his seat, and Jim glances over his shoulder. The minute he does it, Khan turns to leave. 

Jim grabs a loop of the bow and pulls it so hard that Khan stumbles back into his lap, hands flying to catch his shoulders. Jim pulls Khan in tighter by the waist, enjoying the more up-close view of his pinched nipples and cream skin. The chain’s bouncing from the movement. Jim slithers one hand up from Khan’s waist, along his spine to wrap around the back of his neck, tilting his head forward. Jim turns to purr as close as possible, over the dimming noise of the club, “I think you should watch the show from here.” He’s fully prepared to spread Khan’s legs and get a proper lap dance out of it—the powerful hips beneath his fingers would definitely feel amazing rocking into him. 

Instead, Khan smoothly purrs back, “I _am_ the show.” He has the audacity to nip dangerously at Jim’s ear before pulling back with a smoldering stare. Jim gets the distinct impression he’s still being evaluated, and for a second, he’s not sure how to react to that. 

He isn’t given a chance. Khan slips easily off his lap, straightening up and holding down his nipple chain so it won’t rattle quite so much. He slinks off into a corner of the bar, blocked by moving patrons. While Jim stares after him, Bones snorts, “Can you keep it in your pants for five seconds and actually think of what we’re going to order before the show starts?”

“First of all, I didn’t come here to keep my pants on.” Jim follows this statement with a wink before explaining, “Besides, in case you weren’t listening, our server is apparently part of the show, so we won’t be getting anything until after.”

Rolling his eyes, Bones counters, “Hold up a slice of gold pressed latinum and we’ll have another server here in seconds. These bars don’t just run on credits, you know.”

“We don’t need another server—you can wait a few minutes.” And Jim says it in that ‘I’m-the-captain-hear-me-roar’ way of his, so there’s nothing Bones can do to argue. It looks like he’s going to, anyway, though it’s hard to make out in the darkness, but the sudden lightshow cuts him off. The stage is now lit up with an array of different colours, and they trickle into white as the music comes on, something hard and guttural and probably Orion. They both twist in their seats to get a better view. The performers are slipping out the curtain. 

Khan is at the head, a human woman on either side of him and men beyond that. They’re spaced out enough so that Khan is the nearest one to Jim, and Jim’s seat is practically touching the rim of the stage. Poles for each of them lower from the ceiling, and Khan stops less than a meter away from Jim—if Jim wanted, he could probably reach out and touch Khan. While the poles climb down, the performers begin to dance, gyrating to the beat of the music and slipping out of what little clothes they have. At least, Jim assumes that’s what the others are doing too. He’s transfixed. He can’t look at anyone but Khan. 

The collar stays—Khan’s long fingers slip right past it. They run down his chest, curving around his nipples, and he makes the chain shake in the air, whirling it around in circles before he unclips it, pushing it slowly down his torso. He unties his bow at the back and drops it past his hips. Those hips slow down as he reaches them, and Jim’s sure it’s not so much to make it easier for himself as to make it easier to see. He doesn’t touch the front of his pants—instead he unties the crisscrossing ribbon at his thighs. He finishes just as the pole reaches the floor. 

He turns to hold onto that pole, bending down so that his back’s completely flat, and he shakes his ass from side to side in time with the music. His pants slip down his thighs, and Khan carefully lifts each leg, one at a time. The pants catch on his heels, but those aren’t taken off. Khan pushes his pants loose the rest of the way, until he’s carefully stepping out of them, and there’s a colossal cheer from the audience that Jim instantly joins in on. Khan’s face is expressionless and professional, but his body moves like he was built for this. 

The pole dance that follows is, without any doubt at all, the hottest thing Jim’s ever witnessed in his entire life. This bar is going to be getting more than just the James T. Kirk stamp of approval—it just made him a regular. The way Khan slips down his pole, only to turn and bend back up with his bare ass extended, goes straight to Jim’s cock. Khan’s cock is still trapped in a cage, and somehow, that makes it even hotter. They can see all of him, but he’s solely at their mercy. He never once stops swaying his hips, until he struts around the pole to start at the bottom, pressing his ass back into it. His cheeks part around the glossy metal, and he slowly slides it up, the journey only elongated by the heels that he moves so well in. When Khan reaches as far as he can, he humps the bar a few times before pulling back. Then he does the same thing in front of the pole, and though they can’t see his ass parting from this angle, they can see his thighs squatting and his cock bouncing in its confines, his body arched out and his arms stretched high. He dances around the pole with a few more spectacular moves, and then he’s crawling to the floor on his hands and knees. 

Jim would pay just about _any_ amount to have this man in his bed. He’s sure the entire bar population agrees with him. Khan presses his cheek to the stage and lifts his ass as high as it’ll go, spreading his legs and letting them slip back down, perfect ass on display, and one of the lights even purposely washes over it. Then Khan’s arching back and turning over, so that his rear’s to them. He performs the same trick, accept this time they can all see his cheeks parting enough to reveal his tight, pink, puckered hole, twitching slightly under the strain of his muscles and the heat of the lights. Khan must be spreading his cheeks on purpose—that view is _perfect_. Jim’s cock is straining in his pants so badly that he has to lower a hand to massage it. He tries not to let himself daydream too wildly about shoving his massive cock into that tiny hole; he wants to focus solely on the reality of now, sucking in every detail. 

There’s a part of Jim that hopes this show involves several other servers strutting onto the bar and fucking Khan senseless. They could tie him to the pole and ravish him, gangbang him right on stage for all to see. His pale skin would look wonderful slicked up with cum, his dark hair clumped up with it, his bow lips dripping. But at the same time, Jim wants Khan just for himself. He has the fleeting wish that this were an old-fashioned Earth bar, one of the ones that passes out novelty ‘dollar’ bills, so he could roll one up and stick it into Khan’s hole or mouth. However much a dollar was worth, he’s sure Khan’s worth more, though. Khan’s rocking movement eventually lands him on his back, legs spread in the air, and as he arches his chest off the ground, his eyes roll back. 

They catch on Jim’s. 

The intensity in that gaze makes Jim’s breath catch, his hand stilling in his lap. In that moment, he forgets about the rest of the club, forgets about the flashing lights, the other dancers, even Bones. It’s just him and the dancing god on stage, and then suddenly everything’s in fast-motion to catch up, and Khan’s climbing back to his feet. He humps the pole with vigor, and he takes the time to rub each of his nipples against it, and then he’s climbing up and bending back, hanging down before climbing off upside-down, heels arching impossibly forward to catch the ground. He does every trick Jim’s ever seen, could ever even think of. The entire club is a sea of applause and cheers and roars. Jim’s silently mesmerized. Jim can’t figure out why he’d be privately owned, how much it must cost, how much he must need, because surely he could make an entire career out of this and be rolling in credits after only a few shows. 

Then the music’s dulling, and Jim knows it’s over, can see the way Khan’s hips begin to slow. The pole retracts from the ground again, and Khan simply keeps moving in its absence, swaying to the fading beat. When the music’s completely gone, the dancers all move to retrieve their ‘clothes’ before heading to the back of the stage, the applause drowning out their footsteps. 

When the dancers have disappeared, the lights return to a more manageable glow, enough for Jim to be able to read his menu. He needs a minute though. Bones looks about the same, and Jim tosses him a knowing smirk. He was probably looking at one of the girls, though how he could _not_ look at Khan would be a wonder. Under his breath, Bones mutters, “Holy hell.”

Jim’s finally just managed to open his menu when his eyes are drawn up again; Khan’s returned to the side of their table, all of his gear back on. His deep voice almost pushes Jim over the edge. “Would you like drinks yet, gentleman?”

Jim’s still skimming the menu. As soon as he sees the ‘sex’ section, his eyebrows practically rise to his hairline. Clubs are usually subtler about it, but apparently this place knows exactly what it’s doing. There’s a list of short pictures beside each menu item, and Jim’s eyes go immediately to what he’s hungry for. 

He closes his menu and passes it back, relaying with a smirk, “The Admiral Marcus special.”

Something flashes through Khan’s eyes. If Jim didn’t know better, he’d say a smirk passed over those lips, but it’s gone as soon as he catches it. Khan’s gaze takes a moment to pry away to Bones, who grumbles, “Romulan ale.” He hands his menu back too.

Taking it, Khan nods towards the back room, purring, “I’ll join you in the champagne room after I’ve served your friend.”

“My friend’s coming,” Jim decides immediately, because shows are always better with an audience. Bones splutters protests, but Jim’s already tugging him out of their booth. Jim slaps Khan’s ass on their exit, and he finds his way to the far wall, smirking up a storm. 

He figures he should probably comm the ship; he doesn’t plan on heading back for quite a while.


	2. ~

The champagne room, as it turns out, is more than just one room. There’re two already in use, and a third that Khan leads Jim and Bones into. As soon as Jim steps inside, he can’t help but laugh. 

It’s set up like the bridge of a starship, without all the technical stations. It’s darker too, but the room is a circle with the floor cut out, and the chair in the middle is every bit as glorious as Jim’s real captain’s chair. Where the navigation console should be, there’s a couch that Bones heads straight for, lying down immediately. Jim snorts, “Tired, old man?” under his breath, and Bones gives him the finger but doesn’t bother to sit up. Jim stretches out in the pseudo captain’s chair. It, like most of the things in the room, is upholstered to be almost fluffy. It’s extremely comfortable. He spreads his legs as he reclines in it, peering up at his catch. 

“You look at home in the ‘captain’s chair,’” Khan notes as he lifts one leg, climb up into Jim’s lap. Jim grabs his hips to help steady them, unable to look anywhere but the bulge settling down in front of him. There isn’t much room for Khan’s legs, so Jim scoots forward, wanting their torsos as close as possible. 

He asks, “Do they pay you to say that?” Khan’s smoother than any underling has a right to be. 

“No, they pay me to do this,” Khan purrs. His statement is immediately followed by the rocking of his hips, drawn over the bulge in Jim’s pants. Jim grunts. A smirk twitching on those perfect lips, Khan begins to work into a steady rhythm. His hands slip up Jim’s torso, squeezing once at Jim’s pecs, and sliding along Jim’s shoulders. Jim’s wearing too many clothes. It’s just his black undershirt—he didn’t have much time to change, and half the patrons in the bar were wearing some form of cadet or officer’s uniform. But it’s making him sweat. He watches the way the chain bounces on Khan’s chest, the way it tugs on his nipples, the way his collar half covers his adam’s apple when he swallows. Jim wants to touch _all of it,_ but he doesn’t want to disrupt this show. Khan grinds into him with unrequited skill. Jim’s going to burst.

“You’re a captain, aren’t you?” Khan hisses suddenly, breath right next to his ear. Jim’s drowning in the sensations of the lap dance. His hands reach for Khan’s knees, sliding up Khan’s thighs and rubbing back and forth. “Do you have a starship?”

Jim can’t help but chuckle, though it turns into a groan halfway through. He grits his teeth and grunts through them, “I have _the_ starship.” There’s only the subtlest pause in Khan’s movements, but it’s enough for Jim to grin and taunt, “You like that?” He can tell the answer. Something’s ignited in Khan’s eyes that wasn’t there before—perhaps the final level of Jim’s inspection. Jim knows he’s impressive in more ways than one, and he continues in a purr almost as sexy as Khan’s, “I own the Empire’s flagship, and I’m well known as the most powerful captain in Starfleet. Now, tell me what you think about that.” He wants to hear it come out of that pretty mouth, anything in that perfect voice. 

Khan tilts his head down, and the result is a feral, ravenous look, something that makes Jim physically shudder. Khan growls, “ _I like that_.”

When Jim glances down between them, Khan’s cock is bulging around the metallic rings constricting it. Jim has an instant spike of sympathy—he couldn’t imagine not being able to come. Orgasms are a necessary part of Jim’s life. One of his hands slips over the front of Khan’s tight, leathery pants, and he pushes the fabric down impossibly lower, revealing more dark pubic hair and half of Khan’s cock. Khan doesn’t stop moving. Khan’s clearly hardening inside the cage, incapable of getting any harder beyond what it allows. That’s a shame, because it’s massive as it is. It almost rivals Jim’s own—fully erect, it’d probably be an even match. Jim thumbs the skin between each ring absently, not missing the way it makes Khan shiver. Khan bucks his hips near-brutally into Jim’s hand, until his dance is little more than the pathetic humping of an animal. Grinning, Jim can’t help but like that. Slipping back down the front of the pants, Jim lets the tip of his middle finger slide over the head of Khan’s cock. Khan has a sharp intake of breath, and Jim rubs his finger into the slit, wanting to make Khan _squirm._

Khan visibly struggles to keep his hips going, fighting to maintain his training. Jim wants all that stripped away. He tortures Khan with his busy fingers, and he uses his other hand to weave into Khan’s dark hair, fisting in the dark strands. Khan seems to know what to do, and he opens his mouth, trying to tilt in Jim’s firm grasp. But Jim hisses right next to Khan’s face, “Wet your lips and keep them closed for me.” Because a shape like that needs to be worshiped, just like those pretty cheekbones and Khan’s abused nipples. Jim wants an opportunity to feel everything, and he’ll start with the mouth he’s been dying to penetrate. 

He savours them longer, this way. He watches Khan’s tongue slowly trace over them, and the way Khan brings them together, sucked into his mouth and pushed back out, slightly pouting and moist with the treatment. They’re pinker, shining a little. Jim presses a mocking, chaste kiss into them before opening up and sticking out his tongue. 

He traces their full lines, all along the bottom and back across the top, lapping at the line in between. When he’s done, he kisses his way up to Khan’s left cheekbone, then kisses across to the right one. He trails back to Khan’s mouth, and his tongue pries inside, parting them easily. 

Khan immediately kisses him back with a burning ferocity that Jim would never expect from a servant. Khan’s arms slip to tighten around the back of Jim’s neck, and his head tilts properly as his hips go from a jerking movement to a swaying one, mixing it up. His tongue meets Jim in the middle, and Jim actually finds himself fighting for dominance. 

That’s another thing Jim would never expect. He _loves_ it. A challenging servant. It almost makes him smirk. He surges forward to throw Khan’s tongue back, and then he’s fucking Khan’s mouth with an unmatched fervor, until Khan actually moans into him. Khan’s chest arches against his own, the nipple chain cold and flattening against his chest. Jim stops long enough to tug on it, breaking their mouths apart so he can see what he’s doing. He grabs onto both of the clipped nipples and squeezes, noting the way Khan grunts and scrunches his face up. They’re sensitive, then. Or just used too much. Either way, Jim can’t help but grin and peck Khan’s cheek. He nuzzles into the side so he can reach Khan’s ear, purring against it, “Do you want these off, baby?” He’s in a personal, intimate mode. Khan doesn’t protest. 

Khan nods against him. Jim twists them once, just for affect, loving the way Khan’s whole back goes rigid. Then he unclips them and tosses them to the side, bending down and pushing Khan back far enough to pop one of them into his mouth. He sucks on the raw nub and gently tongues it, earning a needy moan from above. He thumbs Khan’s waist as he licks a trail over to the other side, offering the same treatment. As Jim lets go, he kisses his way up to Khan’s collarbone and growls, “You are the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever seen.” He says each word with emphasis, meaning them all. 

Khan purrs, “Thank you, _Captain._ ” _Fuck_. Now he’s got a petname. Or a title, anyway. He could come from that voice alone, especially addressing him like that, so grateful, so full of obvious lust... just because Khan’s paid to be here doesn’t mean Jim can’t make him enjoy it...

Or maybe Khan’s doing it on purpose—simply generating interest to give Jim the false sense of a connection, thereby earning himself a more substantial tip. Only, he didn’t look that way on stage, so it’s unlikely. It doesn’t matter. Whatever walls Khan had, Jim’s sure he can punch through them. He finds his way back to Khan’s mouth and kisses Khan hard, slapping his hip to indicate moving. Khan immediately goes back to his lap dance. 

The next thing that has to go is the large bow, although there’s an aspect of it Jim likes; it’s sort of like Khan’s a present for him, just waiting to be unwrapped. He has to be unwrapped at some point. Jim carefully tugs the bow loose from behind, letting the ribbon fall after and pulling it aside. The collar and the cuffs most likely won’t come off—they’re standard personal-servant gear. But that leaves the heels and pants, and Jim has to break the kiss so he can bend around Khan’s body, tugging off one stiletto at a time. 

The pants he works on like Khan did, undoing the ties on the side first. It’s going to be a shame to get those pants off—they do such wonderful things for Khan’s legs. At the same time, Jim wants him complete naked and at Jim’s mercy. Jim’s probably going to come before he gets there. The excitement of the night’s been too much; the pole dance had him close, the lap dance has him close, and every second Khan’s gyrating against him is a second longer than Jim can take. He has to stop fiddling with Khan’s pants to undo his own, pulling out his cock. Khan’s eyebrows rise instantly, but for less than a second. He obviously approves. He murmurs in his deep, lilting voice, “Would you like me to suck on it? Or ride it, perhaps? You look like you’re in need of immediate assistance, Captain...”

“You’re going to do both those things,” Jim practically snarls, just barely resisting the urge to jerk himself off. “But first, you’re going to get that sexy ass of yours out of those pants, and then you’re going to kneel at my feet and beg for it...” He wasn’t going to add all those stipulations, but Khan takes it how he wanted it: like a challenge. 

As soon as Khan slips off Jim’s legs, Jim regrets his orders. But the sight almost makes it worth it. When Khan begins to dance again, hips swaying as he slowly pulls the black material down his legs, his body turns enough for Jim to get a glance at Bones on the couch across the way. Jim had almost forgotten about him, so engrossed in Khan as he is. Bones is lounging on his back and massaging his own cock through his pants, staring hungrily at Khan’s moving ass. Jim can’t blame him. 

Jim’s eyes are drawn back to Khan as Khan steps out of his pants, left utterly naked from head to toe, save for his restraints, chiseled out like an Adonis. He doesn’t even need to pose; his mere posture is statuesque, model-esque, picture perfect. Legs slipping together, Khan slowly rocks his hips from side to side as he sinks down to the floor, reaching his knees and crawling forward. Jim spreads his legs instantly. Khan kneels between them, head tilting and leaning in, so that his tongue can swipe over the front of Jim’s pants, stretched taut beneath Jim’s dick. Khan’s tongue traces up to the base before retreating, and he places his palms on Jim’s thighs. His fingers spread out, almost squeezing, and his silvery eyes burn with a passion that couldn’t be faked. 

His eyelids lower slightly. He lets his cheeks darken. He sucks in his lips to bring them out, wet and kissable, and he purrs, “Please allow me to taste your cock, Captain. It’s my greatest desire.”

Jim shivers instantly. He can’t help it. He wraps his hand around his cock, pumping right away. He’ll use Khan’s mouth after. He wants to come all over Khan’s face. Khan continues in a guttural sort of moan, “I’ve never seen such a big cock in here before, and a desperate _fucktoy_ like me has seen so many—but I’ve never had the honour of pleasing one so long and thick, so strong and powerful. I’d give anything to have that monster in my mouth...” Seduction obviously comes easy to Khan. He’s clearly putting his all into it, trying to suck Jim over the edge, and it’s working. Jim moans languidly, head thrown back and hand speeding up. Khan licks his lips and deliberately blows over it. He’s not even touching it, but he’s all over it, all Jim can think about. He pleads, unexpectedly and brilliantly, voice down to a miniscule hiss, “Think of how I would look at your feet on your bridge—you in your true captain’s chair, and me your _toy,_ your pet, your possession... I’d kneel before you and suck you every time you ordered it, lie in your bed and ride your cock, spread my legs for you any time, anywhere, any way you so wished. If you liked my little show earlier, that was _nothing_ to how it would be for you, only you, if I were _yours_...” Khan sucks in a breath that sounds like a moan and finishes with a grand, near-orgasmic-sounding, “Make me _yours,_ Captain... all yours...”

Jim explodes, cum rushing up through his cock and throat boiling up a roar. The thought of Khan being _his,_ not trapped in an open club for all to see, is more than Jim can take. His eyes roll back in his head, mouth stretched open, hips arching forward. His cum splatters Khan’s face, and Khan closes his eyes so gracefully, head tilting back like he wants to be bathed in it, like he’s offering himself up. The way it globs across the bridge of his nose and drapes down his cheeks is awe-inspiring. Beads of cum are slipping down the sides of Jim’s cock, his pleasure getting everywhere. He pumps himself out, hand a mess. It’s one of the best orgasms he’s ever had in his life, and it was into his own hand. 

He’s barely done before Khan leans forward, mouth open, tongue out. Jim pulls his sticky hand off his cock, and Khan moves in to lick it. Jim turns it over, and Khan laps at his palm. Khan’s smooth tongue runs down the length of one finger, popping onto it, and sucking on it like it’s some sort of treat. Jim groans again. His cock’s only flagged halfway, unable to fully deflate with the promise of _more_ so thick in the air. When Khan’s eyes open slightly, one eyebrow arches at it. But Khan’s mouth is too full for him to say anything. He moves on to the next finger, sucking all of them clean.

When he’s done, he pulls back, holding a hand halfway up to his face. Feeling benevolent, Jim nods. Khan wipes the cum off himself, carefully licking it off his fingers afterwards. Watching Khan suck his own fingers clean is almost as pleasing as feeling him suck Jim’s. He doesn’t stand up when he’s done. He simply lays his head on Jim’s left knee, looking lazily up at Jim for more instructions. 

“Do they have a hyper prepator here?” Jim annunciates quite clearly, despite that fact that he’s still panting, but Khan looks mildly confused. Perhaps he isn’t used to being prepared properly, but Jim can’t imagine any establishment not having such an instrument on hand.

Khan nods slowly against Jim’s knee, gesturing vaguely to the side. Jim glances to what would be the communications console on his ship, but here it’s just an empty, rounded counter on this one. “There’s an array of objects in that drawer for guests to enjoy,” Khan informs him in a listless tone, making it clear already just what sort of objects it includes. 

As much fun as it would probably be to chain Khan up or paddle him or force large objects into his tiny hole, that’s not what Jim wants right now. He nods in the same direction and orders, “Get the hyper prepator.” At Khan’s look, Jim adds, “Only.”

Khan slinks to his feet with alarming speed, as though attempting to complete the task before Jim can change his mind. As tempted as Jim is to follow Khan’s movements, his eyes are drawn again to the couch. Bones finally has his cock out, stroking it lazily. Before tonight, Jim would’ve been jumping to play with it. Now he has his own proposition to follow, and he nods at Bones with a smirk, receiving a hazy grin back. “You doing okay over there?”

“Peachy,” Bones says. “And before you ask, no I don’t want to hop in bed with you two—I’ll stay right here and enjoy the view, thank you very much.”

Jim laughs, and says, “You read my mind.” But he knows that Bones, supposedly, isn’t gay, and that’ll do. Apparently, even straight men can appreciate the sex machine that is Khan.

Besides, Jim’s experiencing an odd form of jealousy over a man that isn’t even his, and he’s not sure he wants to share Khan. Khan returns with the device in hand; a small metal rod with a thick handle sporting several buttons. He holds it out to Jim, but Jim glances obviously at the floor, deciding, “I want to see you do it yourself. Lie on your back and show me.” Khan wastes no time obeying. 

He sits right on his ass and bends back, legs spreading, right up in front of the chair, and Jim scoots forward for a better look. His own cock is hanging out of his pants, and he abruptly decides to toss his shirt off before he completely soaks it through with sweat. He catches the look in Khan’s eyes at the sight of his bare chest; Khan clearly approves of the view. Jim knows he’s got a good body. But it’s nothing next to Khan’s. Khan slips one hand down, his two fingers spreading around his hole, and he uses them to scissor open his cheeks. This gives Jim a particularly nice view of his puckered muscles, just waiting to be used. Khan inserts the tip of the prepator with a slow, steady hand, and Jim watches the metal disappear tantalizing centimeter by centimeter. The rod is thin like this, but Khan still sucks in and holds his breath, not letting it out until the device is fully sheathed, only the handle sticking out. 

Then Khan clicks the first button, and Jim can tell from the way Khan’s thighs and chest tense up that it’s working. He knows that the rod’s slowly expanding, secreting a thick lube as it goes, wetting up his taut walls. Khan’s lids lower, mouth parting slightly. He exhales deliberately, and Jim can almost hear the buzzing of the instrument. He knows it has more settings, and he purrs, “Set it to vibrate.” Khan obediently does, and his eyebrows knit together in a sort of pleasure-pain as it begins to stimulate his ass in ways his fingers never could. Khan’s hand is firmly holding it all the way in, and it’s almost a shame for Jim to mutter, “Pull it out a bit—I want to see how stretched it makes you.”

Khan does what he’s told. He only pulls it about three centimeters out, but it’s enough for Jim to see just how thick the rod’s growing, just how wet it’s making Khan. The spare lube drips out around the device, slicked up around the base. It grows and grows, and Khan’s stomach arcs up while he struggles to take it. It’s unlikely to be at the right angle, but Khan’s cock is still hard in its cage, unable to wilt. Jim stares at that too, knowing he’ll have to do something about it. 

In the meantime, Jim corrects in a smooth, seductive voice, “Now, let that thing hit just the right spot to make you tremble with pleasure and come here to suck my cock.” Jim doesn’t mention removing the device, and until it’s replaced with Jim’s dick, he doesn’t intend for that to happen. It won’t get any bigger than a standard human cock anyway, if it’s set right and the handle is anything to go by. But it’ll still vibrate, and Jim will enjoy knowing it’s inside, knowing that Khan’s being entered and stimulated and made to squirm. Khan only hesitates for a millisecond before lifting up on his elbows and slowly getting to his knees. Then he crawls forward, his hand still reaching beneath him, and his other hand steadies himself on Jim’s thigh. It squeezes just a bit too tight. 

The device is getting to him. 

It’s probably battering his prostate right now, over and over again, stiff and unforgiving, making Khan long to be filled with a proper, living dick. As it stands, all Khan can do is stick out his tongue and lap at Jim’s cock, kissing it and nuzzling into it until it’s twitching happily. Jim’s young and doesn’t need much time between rounds. He’s always had admirable stamina. Khan looks like he’s indeed admiring it, and that perfect mouth opens to slip over the head. There’s something hurried about Khan’s movements now, and with a slick grin, Jim takes it, head lolling back. He doesn’t want to torture the poor server. He reaches for Khan’s hair, holding on. He knows Khan must be desperate for release. The poor thing. 

Even before it’s begun, Jim knows this is going to be beautiful. The mouth that fits around him feels built for cock, so silky smooth and tight, and Khan’s careful with his teeth, skillful with his tongue. He pushes down to the hilt faster than Jim’s ever known any human to; Khan’s almost too good to be real. As soon as Jim’s cock hits the back of Khan’s throat, Jim can’t hold onto his moan anymore, and he practically hisses as he’s swallowed. Khan slips right down his length without choking even slightly—either he’s had his gag reflex worn down, or he’s more talented than any other human alive. Maybe both. Jim’s had both many partners who couldn’t take even half of his cock, and now this pretty thing is devouring him whole.

Next, Khan sucks, the sensation instantly spiking right up Jim’s body, earning another heady gasp. It feels divine. Khan hollows out his cheeks in his effort. His eyes are fierce again. It’s like he’s on a personal vendetta, bent on making Jim come as much as possible. He’s doing a fantastic job. He starts to bob up and down Jim’s length, sliding all the way into Jim’s pubic hair on every thrust and sucking each time he pulls back, tongue busy on the underside. Jim’s doing his best to hold on long enough for more, but Khan makes it incredibly difficult. 

Khan moans once around Jim’s cock—probably a result of the vibrator inside him—and that’s more than Jim can take. He wrenches Khan off by the hair, holding him out. Head tilted back under Jim’s grasp, Khan looks up through his lashes, oddly victorious. 

“If you’re trying to make me want you,” Jim nearly pants, “You’re doing a damn good job.”

Khan runs his tongue slowly over his abused bottom lip. Then he purrs too quietly for the sound to carry across the room, “If I decide you’re worthy, I’ll make you _need_ me.”

Jim’s eyebrow arches. He didn’t even know personal servants came this... spunky. Whatever this side is, Khan must not show it around Marcus, or he’d be a dead man. 

He’s a damn tempting man. 

Jim sucks in a breath to growl, “Get on my cock.”

Because he’s still holding the prepator inside him, Khan has to stand up slowly, and Jim enjoys watching every muscle move. He waits for Khan to climb onto his lap before he reaches for the handle himself, knocking Khan’s wrist away and jerking the device out. Khan hisses, hole quickly twitching at the absence, lube dripping out. Jim clicks the prepator off to silence the whirring noise, and he tosses it right over his shoulder. 

He doesn’t even have to reach for Khan’s hips; Khan’s doing all the work. Khan gets himself in position, holds Jim’s cock in place, and lines his own hole up. His eyes lock onto Jim’s, and he waits to sit down like he’s waiting for permission. 

Jim doesn’t give it to him. 

Jim has other things to do, and he’s not going to last long enough a second time once he’s inside, he knows that. He lifts a hand to hold Khan’s chin, and he thumbs it gently, fingers curled underneath, while he asks, “How do I open your cage?”

This time Khan doesn’t even bother to hold back the fire in his eyes. They go from hazy to intense in the blink of an eye, and Jim knows instantly that no one’s ever asked him that before. Jim’s the most powerful captain this side of Starfleet, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be a kind dominant. The way the metal cuts into Khan’s engorged member looks nearly painful, and Jim likes to inspire pleasure first. Khan takes a moment to answer, looking distinctly as though he thinks he’s being tested. “...It’s controlled remotely, and only my master can unlock it.” He glances back down at Jim’s lap, like that’s that.

Jim didn’t bring his communicator. He likes to travel lightweight—likes a break when he can. Besides, that’s what he brought Bones for. He calls over his shoulder, “Bones, toss me your communicator.” Khan’s eyes widen slightly around the edges, and Jim raises a hand to catch the device tossed into it. 

He flips it open and immediately barks, “Kirk to Uhura.”

_“Uhura here, Captain.”_

“Get me Admiral Marcus.”

While he waits for his communications officer to comply, Jim covers his communicator with his hand and whispers, “Surprised? Your master and I happen to be on casual terms—or didn’t you believe my prowess?” Jim ignores Bones’ snort in the background. A thin smirk is twisting its way onto Khan’s lips. 

Khan purrs, “He’ll never release me.” It makes Jim frown just as the communicator clicks; he can’t tell how broadly that statement applies.

_“Enjoying my establishment, Kirk?”_

“As a matter of fact, Admiral,” Jim answers, never once losing eye contact with the man in his lap, “I’m enjoying your special. ...And I was wondering if you would be so kind as to release the casing you have over it.”

There’s a noticeable pause on the other end. It seems to take minutes for Marcus to explain, _“That’s not what slaves are for, son.”_

The slight disapproving tone makes Jim switch strategies mid-discussion. He didn’t rise to command in the Empire by not being able to think on his toes. He picks up the clue in the wording immediately: how Marcus really sees his servant’s contract. “I find orgasm denial more satisfying when my victim actually has the option to fail and merit my wrath, or else they aren’t really _trying_...”

Perhaps because of the distance they’re inevitably spanning, Marcus’ laugh breaks into mild static. A blue light suddenly flickers on at the base of Khan’s cock, and a second later, the rings spilt down the middle, opening. Khan’s length bursts out, and the open cage tumbles into Jim’s lap, the light blinking off. Jim chucks it out of the chair before Marcus can change his mind, and Jim adds carefully, “While we’re on the subject, Admiral, you’ve got a very nice pet here. How much for a transfer?” Khan’s smirk reaches his eyes, and in that moment, Jim’s sure that somehow, without either of them speaking a serious word to the proposition, they have an understanding. 

Khan only half falters when Marcus laughs, _“More than you could afford, kid.”_ And the transmission cuts off. Jim isn’t at all disappointed, and he lets that stay on his face. With a man like Marcus, everything has a price. And Jim’s known for getting what he wants. For example, he doubts that Marcus is aware that Jim confiscated an entire weapon’s locker from a Romulan freighter just two weeks ago and didn’t bother to report it. Underground trading is hardly forbidden in the Empire, and Jim’s the top of that class. 

Jim can think of a few forbidden treasures he’d be willing to sell to keep this precious thing in his lap, and he settles back in his fake captain’s chair to ask, “What’re you waiting for?”

Khan drops instantly down onto Jim’s cock, and Jim isn’t sure which one of them moans louder.

The prepator did its job. Khan’s walls are impossibly tight, but they take him, all at once, stretched to their limit but refusing to tear, snuggly clinging on. He’s nice and wet, soft and incredibly hot, like burning, dripping velvet. All Jim can do at first is adjust and take it, almost trying to think of something ugly to hold himself back. This round isn’t all about him. He lets Khan adjust to the feeling of being _filled_ , and Khan purrs of his own accord, “Mmm, perfect fit.”

Jim’s grin is halfway to a smirk. Khan’s not exactly being subtle anymore, but with an ass like this, he doesn’t have to. He places his hands on Jim’s broad shoulders, his cock pressing into Jim’s stomach, and he asks, sweet as honey, “Permission to fuck myself on your cock, _Captain_?” The way Khan says his title is just about the sexiest thing Jim’s ever heard. 

“I told you to ride it, didn’t I?” In case that’s not clear, Jim bucks his hips up. Khan takes the hint and lifts up on his knees, eyes fluttering as Jim’s cock almost slips out of him. Then he drops himself back down, his full weight bearing the brunt of it, impaling himself thick and tight. Jim moans again, sure he’ll do it every time. Khan’s fucking irresistible. 

Khan’s hips work into a quick pace, thighs gorgeously tensing and relaxing as he goes. He bounces up and down on Jim’s cock like the professional he is. A few strands of hair bounce along with the movement, cheeks flushing more and more each time, lips slightly parted and so kissable that Jim can’t resist. He leans in to capture them, and he slithers his hand down to grab a hold of Khan’s cock. 

Khan groans instantly into him, leaning forward and grinding into Jim’s hand as best he can with the up and down movements. Jim wants to tell him he’s being a very good boy, but Jim’s mouth is busy. His tongue’s gone to town on Khan’s pliant mouth, his free hand tracing up and down Khan’s spine. The room smells heavily of sex, and Khan’s raw musk is so enticing. The wet slapping sounds are music to Jim’s ears: his favourite background melody. He tries to memorize every sensation, wanting to hold onto every last piece of this puzzle. 

He wants to fill Khan up with seed and he wants to plug Khan up and make him walk around with it all day. He wants to fuck Khan over his table in the bar and he wants to stuff gold-pressed latinum shavings into the hem of Khan’s pants. He wants to get a private lap dance in his quarters on the Enterprise, and afterwards he wants to crawl into bed with his pet/lover and slink off into only wet dreams, to be woken in the morning with a pair of bow lips around his cock. 

He’s going to get all that, and first he’s going to milk Khan dry, emptying Khan out so that Khan knows no other man could please him like Jim can. Jim plays with Khan’s cock with almost as much skill as Khan’s been displaying, pouring all of his techniques and moves into this. He wants to make Khan see stars. He kisses Khan breathless. Khan surges back into him, matching him thrust for thrust and tongue for tongue. It’s the hottest thing Jim’s ever experienced, but so far, every progressive minute with this man has been as much. 

He wants Khan to feel the same way, and he’s _ecstatic_ when Khan’s the first to come. 

Khan tenses suddenly against him, body shuddering and arching, mouth falling wider open, a moan rolling into Jim’s. Khan’s cock twitches in Jim’s hand, and a second later, it’s painting Jim’s stomach, bursting up Jim’s chest and trickling all over Jim’s hand. Jim keeps pumping and keeps thrusting his hips up, and Khan keeps riding Jim properly, ass now convulsing with his orgasm. That proves to be more than Jim can handle, and Jim’s following suit barely a minute later. He fills Khan’s ass right up. He can feel it rising, feel it squelching, drenching Khan’s insides, and Khan’s ass keeps squeezing, keeps pulling it out. Jim’s vision nearly blacks out. His fingers claw at Khan’s shoulder, his other hand gripping tightly to Khan’s dick. He wants it all. Every last feeling. 

And the second he’s drained, he’s _drained._ He slumps back, empty and boneless, with a satiated wave of calm. He won’t be getting hard again for a bit. Khan doesn’t slump quite as much, but he’s clearly satisfied, and it looks like that satisfaction’s wracked him harder than he was prepared for. 

It takes him a moment to look at Jim properly, and when he does, Jim sees everything. He’s been appraised, and he’s been approved. Khan _wants_ him just as much as Jim wants Khan, and Khan, for all his restrictions, looks like a man that strives for what he wants too.

He doesn’t climb off of Jim’s cock until Jim rocks his hips forward. Then Khan’s sitting up, and Jim’s cock slips out, dragging a trail of cum and lube with it. Khan climbs off the chair. His chest is faintly rising and falling with his breath, somehow steadier than Jim’s. He stands there, stock still, staring at Jim expectantly. 

Jim opens his mouth to ask who he has to see about rebooking, but Bones interrupts with a growled, “’You finished yet? Because that was fun for a while, but I’m getting seriously dehydrated over here!”

Jim laughs, and with a brilliant smile, Khan says, “Romulan ale, coming right up.”

And he heads for the door, butt naked.


End file.
